


Once Upon A Time In Mexico

by henriettaholden



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-01-23
Updated: 2009-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-22 17:10:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henriettaholden/pseuds/henriettaholden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><a href="http://community.livejournal.com/nekid_spike/"> Nekid Numbers</a> prompt: Riley, candle, graveyard, sensory deprivation<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Upon A Time In Mexico

Once Upon A Time In Mexico

The sweat licked at his brow, making him fervently wish for England. Mexico was a far cry away from the overcast skies and emotionless droids of home. Mexico was hot, unrelenting and colourful. Colourful people, colourful buildings, and colourful morals. England was beautifully grey.  
 

But Spike Pratt had been exiled from the Mother Country for treason. Or, more accurately, being ‘recruited’ by the CIA who he had subsequently turned on. Except they didn’t know that. Yet.

  
The sweat dribbled lower, casting down the valleys of his creased forehead. He absently lifted his arm and wiped away the water with his wrist.

  
Spring was too hot for Spike but the drug cartels didn’t halt work for some flimsy heat. They didn’t even stop for biggest national holiday.

  
The coloured shrines covered in candles, marigolds and sugar skulls of Dia De Los Muertos were too bright for death. Death was a rusty brunet lined in darkness. At least, that’s what Spike’s current victim was experiencing.

  
The man was slumped forward in the chair, limbs playing at being ragdolls and blood slipping to the floor. He was a wholesome marine caught up in the life of crime for a woman. That old story. Spike hated the cliché. He took his hate out on the soldier.

  
It wasn’t fun. It was release.

  
He’d been trained to complete the mission. He hadn’t been trained to like it.

  
The tongue clamp cut off all circulation to the tongue, blistering the appendage with the borrowed heat from the kiln where it had been heated.

  
The blindfold had been taken from the victim’s eyes as soon as Spike had steered him around the graveyard, where the people had gathered at tombs, singing and retelling joyous stories to the skulls and flowers that brightened the sombre death gardens.

  
Spike hadn’t spoken once. His nature was telling him to be impulsive, beat the hell out of the corn-fed idiot who sat before him, then run away from this whole fucked up situation.

  
His training told him to be silent.

  
And the boy was terrified.

  
“What is Marquez doing today, boy?”

  
The boy garbled, the tongue clamp burning through the layers of skin in his mouth. His hand shook as Spike thrust the marker into his fingers.

  
The clamp fell from the soldier’s mouth. He might never be able to taste again.

  
“Why did Andreas stop the shipment?”

  
The spoken words crept into the broken brain of the trussed up boy, one ear drum broken and the other with dry ice shoved close to the quivering membrane.

  
The long hours of pain administered silently had the boy in pieces.

  
Spike was sure he’d have an answer as soon as the shaken hand stilled. Then he’d collect the cash and look for a corner of the world to get lost.

  
The soldier had written on the paper with the sharpie. Four words.

 _  
My name isn’t boy._

  
The kid had spunk. Musta been because of the girl.

  
Normally was.

  
Wouldn’t stop Spike, though.

**Author's Note:**

>  _So, for some reason the prompt made me think of Dia De Los Muertos, which made me think of Yummy Antonio (who isn't a vampire, hurry up Harmony) and Naughty Johnny gunning it up in Rodriguez 's Once Upon A Time In Mexico. This is sort of a blatant rip-off...I mean homage..._  
>  Originally posted to Livejournal on January 23, 2009


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